Last week I had a disturbing experience at the therapist-led Transgender support group meeting I attend each month. It left me sad and disillusioned, and depressed. Today, five days later, I'm feeling better so that's good. I've thought about writing this in my blog but I've been very torn. I don't like to hear myself complain or whine and I don't know what the point of this post is anyway. Maybe we'll learn together.
Prior to the support group meeting things were looking brighter. My wife ha
For the very first time I went out to dinner dressed last week and spent a couple of days in skinny jeans, leggings, and my tunic tops. Also wore a couple of my skirt/top outfits. I also received a lot of lessons in makeup and wig care. I learned so much! And I just felt wonderful. True, I also learned that, frankly, makeup is hard to learn, and I prefer to wear as little of it as possible. And the wig is hot and not very comfortable. Thankfully my natural hair may be okay so I'm growing it out
I spent the evening with three girlfriends at a dinner show in downtown Seattle. I should have had a better time. I wore my new burgundy REI sweater dress, fleece-lined leggings, and a silver necklace. If I do say so myself, I looked nice. Nice that is, for me. I'm not sure I should be writing this at all. After all I'm a moderator here. Aren't I supposed to be like a Camp Counselor who always knows the right thing to say, the right thing to do? That's what it seemed like when I went to camp, a
"You're too sensitive." I've heard that so many times in my life. Worse, I believe it. I should not be hurt by rude people at work. I seem to be the only one who gets hurt. So no, I shouldn't be affected. I should not like how I feel when I wear my dresses. After all, it's just cloth. A fabric of threads. And I'm not supposed to like them. I should not be scared. Scared that people will discover how scared I am. Of being hurt. I should not even write this here. After all, I'm a mod; mods don't
About lying in bed, in my long white nightgown, reading, with my legs tucked under the skirt. It's like being at peace with the world, comfortable and cozy, and right. It just feels right. And that's what they say transgender is. What feels right, what does it for you. It's terribly hard at times to really put ones finger on it and like the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, as soon as you try, it moves, as if it can't be objectively pinned down. Isn't it weird that something as simple as this co
My wife recently asked me if I feel that I am female "inside." If I am transgender, then doesn't that mean that I consider myself fundamentally female? It turns out that those are questions I've asked myself and I am not confident I have the answers to. After all, how can I ever know if you and I see the same color let alone if my thoughts and feelings are female? To try to answer these questions I try to look at the facts that I do know and then draw a conclusion: I know that since prescho
I’ve felt like crying many times in the last few decades but have never been able to really let it go. Yesterday was different. Fair warning: I don’t mean for this to be a “pity party” at all and I hope it doesn't come off that way. <big sigh>
As my wife and I walked to our neighborhood coffee shop yesterday morning I mentioned something that had been bothering me since the previous evening. Our therapist has encouraged me to communicate this stuff so I was following orders. Now, my w
Below is an email I sent to my therapist this morning in preparation for our couples meeting with my wife tomorrow evening. Names have been redacted or changed to protect the innocent.
I imagine and hope we will have a great meeting tomorrow. Our therapist is remarkable how he helps us learn how to communicate better and, together, my wife and I are working through the scary assumptions and worries about what it means for me to realize I am transgender. As of this post it's been about seven m
This is a real first for me, taking my photo and posting it here or anywhere! I'm really enjoying this new dress that I just received last week. Sitting here typing up this blog entry just feels right, you know? The whole thing feels so right, I just want to get up, go out to my car, and walk around downtown. Maybe have a coffee and a croissant. Or a lady finger. Hahaha! The slope is a little slippery right now. I keep finding myself shopping (on line) for more, admiring styles, looks, and
Dear friends, I'm blessed to be a part of our community here - I think of you often. I wish you, your families, and your friends, all a wonderful holiday season. Let's all pray for peace on earth and good will to all. Love, Emma
I've been wrestling with myself about posting this today. I don't think I'm one to blow my own horn (much) but yesterday I accomplished something I've been working toward for the last few weeks. I rode my bicycle over 100 miles, from Redwood City to Cupertino, back and forth, and finally returning home almost 8 hours later. Total riding time was just over 7 hours and the difference is due to stop lights and a couple of times when I stopped to open up my little pouch to munch on a piece of Clif
Last night I met a male friend for dinner whom I've known since first grade - quite a long while. I'd told him via email that I'm trans a couple of months ago and he was supportive, so he wasn't particularly surprised when I appeared in skinny jeans, athletic pumps, and with studs in my earlobes. He's a successful corporate attorney and is friendly, very articulate, and handsome with designer glasses, died hair, and clothing that while very casual were color- and style-perfect for the occasion.
My hair was getting pretty long and I liked it. But it occurred to me that the ends likely needed trimming back a couple of inches to even it out, the bangs trimmed, and I wanted my stylist (whom I adore) to see about adding some framing around my face. So yesterday I saw her and after, she snapped this photo. I am loving my new haircut!
Oh, and I started a diet last Sunday to lose what looks like some sort of baby bump in my belly. No alcohol, very light on the carbs, all that stuff. I'm
I want to know what my label is which I suppose can be interpreted to knowing my own identity. Perhaps that sounds strange to some. After all, I don't think anyone wants to be labeled by others. We (or at least, me) want to know what we are ourselves. What does it matter? I think it's so that as we progress through the day, interact with others, we know who we are in the world. And yes, I'm talking here about gender. For many, it's binary: male or female. We've all heard it before so why wr
My wife’s been out house-sitting for a couple of weeks, and will do so for another two weeks, so that’s provided me some space to explore myself. Most mornings I walk a couple of blocks to our local coffee shop before breakfast, buy a large cup, and return home to catch up on emails while enjoying the coffee. Now, though, I can add something feminine to my clothing which I like to do.
But I must not present anything girly on the outside. I know many of the people I run into and as we know, m
I attended my first therapist-led support group last night. In short, it was a very good experience for me and I'm grateful to have found it and their warm welcomes.
There were six of us in all, including the therapist and myself. Three are transitioned transwomen and the fourth is taking hormones, thinks she would like to transition but isn't sure. Three are married and one's wife passed away some years ago. All are well known to each other; some have attended this meeting for more than
I met privately for an hour yesterday with a therapist who has forty years experience working with gender dysphoric clients; she runs the monthly TG Support group I've been attending. She was wonderful, knowledgeable, and so resourceful. I feel very fortunate for being able to meet with her and felt others here might appreciate my sharing some of the details (that I can recall!) of our meeting.
I broke up the points into three sections to make it a little more readable. There is no particular
It's a wonderful day, today. My wife is away this morning on business and while I miss her I have the opportunity to be myself for a couple of hours. After my shower I dressed with some feminine underthings (well concealed by layers of more masculine apparel) and headed out to our regular Sunday haunts, the coffee shop in Palo Alto, Trader Joe's, and the farmer's market, where I picked up long-stemmed tulips, a couple of heads of lettuce, some fresh asparagus, and cauliflower.
Now, I'm at m
My friend has a cap with the words "Life is Good" on it. I often wonder if he realizes how much it affects me. I'm feeling that way these days. I am increasingly realizing how unbelievably oppressive it was (and is) to live with such strong feelings and hurts about wishing one is the opposite gender from their birth sex. And, how we can be conditioned to work so hard to suppress it to get along. But that "getting along" for me meant waiting for it to be over. Which seemed like such a waste. So
Learning curve... what?
Now, almost six years after I started contemplating whether I am trans, I am a woman in most ways except, perhaps, to myself. I have several very good cis women friends whom I love and love me. When we talk about my struggles they reassure me that I am clearly a woman to them. My speech, my mannerisms, certainly my clothing, all speak to the truth of me authentic gender.
So what's the struggle? Why am I writing?
When I get dressed to go out I always con
In my past career when we said that we were “falling on my sword” we meant that – typically in front of a customer – we were admitting that our company or product was at fault. We were being transparent, vulnerable, admitting we were in the wrong and hopefully the customer would thus react with less drama and instead collaborate on working around or developing a solution to the problem. This blog post feels like that to me, thus its title.
Of late I’ve been reading “Crossdressing With Dignit
As usual, this morning I was reading the New York Times online edition on the computer in my home office – a very interesting article titled “The Ride of Their Lives” with the following opening paragraph:
“NO FAMILY DOMINATES a rodeo event the way the Wrights do saddle bronc. But rodeo is a young man's game, which is why the family patriarch works to grow his cattle herd. Rodeo and ranching may be vestiges of the Old West, yet the combination is one family's hope for future generations.”
S
Today is – quite literally – the first full day of the rest of my life. Yesterday (on Easter Sunday) I left my wife (now, ex, which is hard to fathom), home (now hers), friends, and family, to venture out on a Hero’s Journey (if I do say so myself) to see what I find in my gender, life, and home. I woke this morning in my Minnie Winnie near Healdsburg, California at a KOA campground, figured out how to hook up the water and sewage to the coach, and cooked eggs and coffee for breakfast. The last
Last Thursday as I was planning my day I knew that that evening I had an appointment with my therapist. I made plans to drop by an Amazon locker to pick up a new top and told some people that I was nervously thinking of putting it on in his restroom and surprising him in our meeting. At lunch I read some encouragement from Veronica, Bree, and I think others, which just felt wonderful. After, as I walked to get a cup of coffee I suddenly realized I was smiling. I felt so wonderful to contemplate
Now, I suppose the title of this post may sound like I'm having a bad time but no, just the opposite. I came across these book covers recently - aren't they cool? I just love them. They bring up all kinds of thoughts and feelings for me. I'm going to look around eBay and elsewhere and see if I can get my hands on them. (Postscript: It's on Amazon for $2 (Kindle version. Yay!) But really, my life is going pretty well recently. I never thought I'd say this but the SSRI medication that the psy